To write a story
by Gotta Love Music
Summary: When the only thing Harry cares about is to write a good story, what will the Wizarding world do? What will Dumbledore do? Harry sure doesn t care...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: You know, I don't understand WHY we have to write these things, cause, which normal person would write a fanfiction if he/she owned this anime/manga/book/idea etc etc. Clearly, I do not own HP, J. K. Rowling does.**

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much._

...

_They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense._

…

_Yes, they were perfectly normal, boring family, just one of the hundreds and thousands of families you can see everyday._

…

…

"…"

"This is just wrong! Especially from me!" yelled a little, green-eyed boy, who was currently sitting on a bench at the park and giving a Death Glare to the almost blank, innocently white page, where he had just written the first few sentences of his new story. Soon-to-be story, he hoped.

Was it possible for a notebook to look guilty…? Or was he just losing his mind?

At the boy's exclamation some mothers, who were at the park with their own kids, looked at him a bit disapprovingly, but seeing a rather young, small boy, with messy, dark hair, glasses and a rather frightening expression on his face, as frightening as it could be for such a fragile-looking child, they left him alone.

The boy didn't care at all. He just continued glare at his notebook, waving his pencil around almost maniacally. Finally he sighed, feeling miserably.

"And what's wrong with me!" he almost moaned. "I'm actually writing a story of _Dursleys_, of all things! _Dursleys!_ God knows, just how much I can hate them! Aren't there other things I could write of? About smiles and sunshine and flowers, and pretty, interesting things, and… heck, even writing about ponies would be better!" he closed his notebook and banged his head with it. "On the second thought, I _do_ hate ponies. Oh, where the hell have I hit my head? And I'm not talking about banging my head with my notebook. That was on purpose." He closed his eyes and sighed again he seemed to do that a lot today.

But it wasn't everyday that he was in as bad mood as he was today.

It was only on days like these, when his stories refused to come to him. He was almost literally chasing after them in his head, but he couldn't get a hold on them.

You see, this boy, was no ordinary child.

His name was Harry Potter and he was a writer. Well, not really, at the moment, as he was considerated too young to write anything more serious that a good story, but his life's goal was to write a book that would be a Bestseller.

Long way to go, that's for sure, but Harry was a very bright child for his age, almost a genius prodigy, and had already send his stories to some newspapers or magazines, under a false name, of course, and with his _family_ not knowing anything about it, and those people had liked them and had taken calling him a prodigy every time he send a new story.

Harry liked to write about everything. About his life, what he saw, heard, knew… But his best stories were those, who talked about magic and other seemingly-impossible things. Where mystical beings came alive, about their experiences and things they did. These stories were the light in his otherwise monotone life.

Everyday passed with him waking up from his aunt's screening, doing all the chores for his oh, so _lovely, dear family _and being chased by his cousin.

Stories helped him to stay sane. After Harry had read every book in the Dursleys house, he had taken to go to the library and read there. As he had read every book that he could understand, he especially loved legends; he had taken to write stories on his own.

They were pretty good, actually.

Then his eyes snapped open and gained a sharp, thoughtful look, before they glazed as an idea formed in his mind. _"But they sure are the perfect people who can make your life miserable… like mine… Just throw in an abused character … once again, just like me… who later finds out that he/she is a hero or something, and he/she has to decide fate of the world… I'm glad that I'm not a hero. But what stories could I write if I would be…"_ he mumbled, but was snapped out of his thoughts as he felt the first raindrops fall from the sky.

The sky had turned darker, while he had been thinking over his ideas and now was in slightly purple shade that actually looked kind of pretty.

"Skies are crying…" whispered the small child. "But why are they crying? Are they sad because I am sad….?"

Harry carefully wrapped his notebook with his jacket and quickly started to run towards the Privet Drive. Suddenly he had found a new inspiration. His dream would come true and nothing would stand in his way.

Days later, the first, weird letter came…

**A.N. Hi there! My first time writing a story that's not a crackfic! Please tell me is it good, bad? Should I continue it? This was just a little idea that popped up in my head and refused to go away… **

**Btw, my grammar can be crappy, because I'm from Latvia and I can Latvian speak perfectly, not English. I'm still learning…**

**Review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP, J. K. Rowling does, duh.**

****It was an ordinary morning; only today Harry had woken up much earlier, for some unfathomable reason. So now he was sleeping on his bed, in his room. If you can call a cupboard a room, that is.

H e was staring in darkness, as he really couldn't see anything and hummed quietly a song he just invented:"_And why should we run, _

_From the Fate that'll come? _

_We can't hide, be gone, _

_What would we become? _

_Our faces are masks,_

_With eyes only shining,_

_With hope and with love,_

_So brightly, it's blinding._

_As time will soon lose meaning,_

_My friends will come, beaming,_

_Our masks will start to crack…_

_But that's just pure luck._"

He finally sighed, hearing his Aunt screeching, quite suddenly:"Boy! Come here and fast!" she banged the door of his cupboard:"Hurry up! And stop mumbling!"

The green-eyed boy sighed once again, cause` he knew that he probably won't have any chance to do it later, at least `till the evening.

"I'm coming!" he called to his aunt, loud enough for her to hear, but also quietly enough, so she wouldn't become angry.

He hurriedly got out of his bed and put on his clothes, looking around for his sock, he finally spotted it under the bed. He shooed away a spider that looked very comfortable indeed just sitting on his sock. He also tried to comb his hair a little, but that, as usual, was a failure, seeing as he didn't even had anything to brush his hair with.

After a few seconds he opened the door of the cupboard, closing them and went towards the kitchen. When he finally got there he saw his Aunt, running around, like there was no tomorrow. She looked up from whatever she was doing and a scowl formed on her features:"Oh, it's just you. Well? What are you waiting for? Start making breakfast!" she clapped her hands twice to emphasize her words and sneered at his direction.

Harry mentally rolled his eyes, used to this sort of thing happening every morning and went to the fridge to get eggs and bacon.

Minutes later Uncle Vernon came down to the kitchen, giving a "Good morning, dear" and a brief kiss on her cheek to Aunt Petunia, then turning and giving a glare and a grunt at Harry's direction, that Harry decided, was some kind of greeting. He and his Uncle Vernon were in odds, because neither could tolerate each others presence for long, but still had some sort of underlying respect for each other. Harry was a prodigy, no doubt about it, and even they both held grudge against him, seeing as their son was nowhere as intelligent as Harry, they could stand him by their side. Well, at least for a few minutes.

Actually, life with the Dursleys weren't that bad to live with, although he never had had a normal childhood, as they were trying to make his life miserable. But by now it had became kind of like a routine and was normal for them.

Harry was once again startled out of his thoughts as there were some loud footsteps and the kitchen door was banged open, following by a loud cry:"Morning Mum and Dad!"

Of course, it was Dudley. Who else in this house made such a loud footsteps that it sounded like there was an elephant in their house?

As Uncle Vernon sat down, Harry put on pile of scrambled eggs and bacon on his plate. His Uncle grunted in approval, before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. He looked around, frowning at what he was not seeing. "Dudley! Get the mail!"

"Make Harry do it!"

"Harry got the mail!"

"Make Dudley do it!" Harry shot back. If there was one person he surely did hate, then it was Dudley. The boy just couldn't seem to stand him, for being better than him.

"Dudley, poke him with your fork."

Harry dodged the forks-poke-of-the-doom, before standing from where he had sat down and went to get the mail. _"O` course, it's always me."_ He mused, bending down to pick up the letters. "Let's see… bill, bill, bill, a Playboy magazine, bill, bill, oh, another bill! Hn, a postcard from Marge, bill, bill, bill, a newspaper – finally! Bill, bill, bill, a letter for Mr. Harry Pitter, bill, bill, bill…. Wait, what?" he blinked down at the thick letter, written with a poisonous green ink.

Indeed, to Mr. Harry Potter was written there, clear and real.

"_Parchment!"_ Harry thought in disbelief. Then his eyes gained that glazed look once again, before he grinned. _"It's so cool! Kinda romantic too, like something from the Middle Ages! "_

He put the letter under his shirt, being intelligent enough, not to read it here. _"Better wait until the evening."_ He thought and hurried back to the kitchen, as he heard his Uncle Vernon starting to get impatient.

Harry went back and gave his Uncle the newspaper, before trying to slide out of the kitchen.

Unfortunately for him, his Aunt noticed his sneaky movement.

"Where do you think you're going? Get back here! You still have a work to do!" she huffed.

Harry heaved a mental sigh_. "It was worth to try…"_

**A.N. Hello everyone! I want to say Thanks to all of you for alerts and favorites! Hope you like this!**

**And yes, I invented that little poem-song-thingy. It's not the really good, but the best one I could come up with in such a short time ^^ Please tell me if there are any mistakes, so I can fix them, if needed! Sorry for the short chapters, but exams are coming up and I don't have very much time to write.**

**Enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP, J. K. Rowling does, duh.**

****Finally, the evening had come, when Dursleys were usually going out somewhere to enjoy themselves, without Harry, of course. Sometimes they went to the cinema, sometimes to a restaurant or an amusement park, sometimes to all of them.

Harry usually didn't mind. Those places were too crowded for his tastes.

Tonight he was especially happy that they were gong away and he could have their house on his own for quite a while.

After all, he finally could read his letter. And thank god for that! The letter had been in his mind all day long and it was starting to drive him almost crazy.

"We're going now, boy! And don't you dare to do something to our house while we're away!" his Uncle called from the doorway, where he was standing, while waiting for Petunia to get ready.

"Don't worry, I won't!" he called back, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"With you we can never be sure!" said Uncle Vernon, his voice loud enough to be heard even if there were a slightly humorous note in his tone.

Harry snorted. ""Have fun!" he called again, as he heard his Aunt muttering about "brats". She was, apparently, referring that to him.

"Hn." Was the only reply he heard, before the door closed with an audible _click_.

Harry waited a bit longer, just to confirm that they haven't forgotten anything and weren't coming back. A few seconds later he heard the car driving away and let out a breath, he didn't realize he had been holding, for what seemed like all day.

Harry suddenly felt relieved.

And then he took off to his cupboard where he had hidden the letter, when he had had a bit free time.

He grabbed the handle of the cupboard and with a little hesitation opened the door slowly, as if waiting the letter to jump on him.

Silly.

Finally Harry snatched the letter from under his bed, where he had thrown it, being in hurry.

It looked a bit dusty, but Harry didn't care, because it didn't look more damaged than that. He walked out of the cupboard, holding the letter in front of his, his legs bringing him to the kitchen, where the evening sunlight was shining in.

He carefully looked at the letter. It was in yellowish color, parchment, as he had thought.

Then he looked at the address and did a double take.

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Harry frowned at the weird address. Sure, he was only eleven, but he wasn't stupid.

His first thought was to burn the letter and run around in circles, screaming:"Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger!"

His next thought was:"Don`t be an idiot. But this is just sooo unromantic, though a bit more creative than the usual mail. Oh, joy! I have a stalker!" he thought sarcastically.

Slightly disappointed, he just sighed, shaking his head and looked on the other side of the letter, where something more interesting was. There was a seal with four different pictures on it and with a big "H" on it.

That looked like it would bring more satisfaction to him than the front.

Harry smirked.

This looked like a good idea for a new story.

**A.N. Hey! Sorry for the long wait, but I'm a bit busy, seeing as the exams are coming up. O.O **

**I thank to my first reviewer: Hoshi-nee-sama! Thank you! Glad you liked it.**

**And I'm sorry if there are grammar mistakes, but I'm, usually, typing this down at 11 p.m., because I don't have time to do it when it's day… if there are any mistakes, please point them out**

**Enjoy! R&R**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP, J. K. Rowling does, duh.**

Harry broke the seal of the letter.

"_Please be something interesting. Please be something interesting. Don`t mess this up for me. Yes, I`m talking to you, letter. Please be something interesting."_ He chanted, hey you can never be too dramatic when you need new inspiration, carefully opening the letter and pulling out another yellowish parchment page, looking to see that it was covered with neat, sharp handwritting.

These people sure liked parchments.

His excitement grew a little bit, seeing that something was really written there. No matter how real the letter had looked, he actually had thought that there wouldn`t be anything there. Just a joke.

"_And he breaks the seal,_

_Asking for something real._

_He now can see it clear,_

_Is this something to fear?_

_He hopes it will be dear,_

_Something that always`ll be near,_

_When you won`t need to shed a tear,_

_Because it will help you and heal."_

He sang softly under his breath. This was a lullaby, he had just invented, melody from another lullaby, he had heard a mother singing to her child, while he was sitting on a bench in the park and glaring deadly at his notebook.

He finally looked at the letter in front of him.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

"_Wait, wait, wait, wait... WHAT?"_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

"_Too many titles and names. But seeing the words they could be both at the same time. Has he ever written a book, I wonder?"_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

"_It sounds like I`m old. Nobody have ever called me like that."_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"_Am I the only one who is now confused?"_

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

"_What list?" _Harry glanced at the letter, seeing another page into it. He could have sworn it wasn`t there a minute ago. _"Oh... that list, probably."_

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

"_What owl? I don`t have an owl... do I?"_

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"_Well, at least these people helps me with finding new inspiration. I wonder if this is for real?" _Harry was almost scared to think about it. All the possibilities... being in a REAL school for Witches and Wizards... seeing a whole new culture...

... finding new topics to write about and experience all these things himself...

"I`m going!" He declared loudly to the silent room, where he was still standing. If anyone had been looking at him, they would have taken a step back.

One could almost SEE sparkles in his eyes, shining with glee. He looked like a four-year old in a candy shop. Already on a sugar-high.

He took the other page with two fingers, peering at it, waiting for some kind of fireworks to start.

He was severly dissapointed that nothing had happened.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

"_Yeah, they already mentioned that."_

UNIFORM

"_Wha...? oh, come on! All regular schools have uniforms. This soooo not awesome!"_

First-year students will require:

sets of plain work robes (black)

"_No color at ALL?"_

plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

"_Are all of those mythes real?"_

pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

"_But I like dragons! I`m against this!"_

winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

"_I`m NOT wearing black all the time! What happened with color?"_

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

"_Why should they? It`s not like I leave all my clothes scattered on the floor or in random places... well... maybe I do..."_

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

"_Umm... where do I actually get those thing? It`s not like I have money..."_

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

"_What`s up with weirdo names?"_

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

"_Do I have to repeat the question?"_

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

"_Soooo..."_

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

"_..."_

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

"_Weirrrrrrrrrrd..."_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

"_Dragons?"_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

"_Booo hooooo..."_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

"_What about staff? Damn..."_

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.

"_Say whaaa... no dragons?"_

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"_Hn. Dursleys has a lot explaining to do. And they better, or else..."_ Harry huffed in annoyence.

If you are a writter, you have much easier time accepting impssible things.

Yes, the Dursleys better have a good, very good reason for keeping him from this information. For gods sake, he had had a writter`s block for _months_ now!

Now just wait `till they get back.

**A.N. Sorry for the wait. Exams are close now. Ahhh! Wish me luck! ^^**

*** Yup, the poem – thingy is mine.**


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